


unfamiliar ceilings

by plantegg



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Despair Disease (Dangan Ronpa), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, i mean i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantegg/pseuds/plantegg
Summary: What might have happened if Hinata wasn't so oblivious when Komaeda had despair disease.





	unfamiliar ceilings

**Author's Note:**

> a quick warning that it's mentioned that komaeda has scars that are implied to be due to self harm-it's very brief and not at all graphic, but still please be careful while reading in case that's something you're uncomfortable with!

There’s something off about Komaeda.

But that’s not unusual for him. Komaeda’s been at various levels of offness since the moment Hinata met him, even when he was all kind eyes and soft words, pale and smiling on the island’s sandy shore. At this point, what would be truly bizarre would be if he started behaving completely normally, if he _wasn’t_ always so inappropriate and in need of constant supervision. Even if he weren’t sweating and shaking in his hospital bed Hinata would be worried about him- he doesn’t really seem like he eats, or changes out of his stained shirt and baggy hoodie, or ever manages to think favourably of himself. He’s too damn _thin_ , Hinata thinks, watching his chest rattle and rasp under his hospital gown as he babbles nonsense, like the earth often does just before it collapses in upon itself. It’s no wonder he was one of the few that caught whatever mysterious fever is going around the island. Hinata doesn’t think there’s enough left of his body to fight anything at all.

Almost unconsciously, he reaches out and traces a hand along the bony line of Komaeda’s wrist, stroking across dry, rough skin and the raised line of one of many scars that make tiny ribbons across his arms. It’s the sudden change in texture combined with the sudden quiet that startles Hinata into realising what he’s done – and then there’s fingers, bony and sharp, clenched around his wrist like the teeth of something big and angry and ready to swallow him whole.

For the first time since Hinata entered the room, there is complete and utter silence.

“Komaeda,” he starts. “I didn’t mean – I’m so–”

“ _You,_ ” Komaeda hisses at him, his eyes wild and manic. “ _You._ ”

It is in this moment Hinata becomes acutely aware of how badly he’s fucked up. “I’m _really_ sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Komaeda doesn’t seem like he’s listening any more. He’s muttering to himself again, louder this time, but still fairly incomprehensible. After listening long enough, he begins to pick out one word that’s consistent – “Hinata”, over and over, here and there, dropped throughout the jumble of gibberish like glinting bits of a broken bottle scattered amongst blades of grass.

Hinata thinks that perhaps he should leave.

“I'm gonna go,” he tells him, and moves to pull his arm from Komaeda’s grasp.

His fingers only grip tighter. “Yeah,” he says, breaking from his rambling to say perhaps the first coherent word he’s managed since Hinata entered his room. “Get out of here, Hinata. I can’t stand seeing your face.”

And it stings a little, but Hinata can’t say it’s not justified. “I understand,” he tells Komaeda. There are still things left to do after all, with the mystery of the island and their being here yet to be solved. He really _should_ leave.

The only problem is that Komaeda is still clinging onto him, and it’s _really_ starting to hurt. “Leave me alone, Hinata,” he pants out, the effort of breathing and speaking only making him sweat and shake more. “I don’t want to be around you any more than I have to. I _hate_ you.”

That actually _hurts_ . Hinata knows it shouldn’t – why should he care about Komaeda’s opinion? It’s fucking _Komaeda_ . The guy they had to leave tied up in a room by himself for two days so he couldn’t kill anyone. But it still does, for whatever reason, and so he pulls harder, to no avail. “You’re going to have to let _go_ of me for me to be able to leave, you know,” he snaps, frustration crawling through his chest despite his attempts to keep it down, the motion of his arm almost yanking Komaeda right out of his hospital bed.

In response to that, Komaeda physically drags Hinata to him with strength it seems he himself didn’t know he possessed. They’re face to face now, but Komaeda’s eyes dart like trapped things, seeming to go anywhere and everywhere other than Hinata’s face. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you so _much_ ,” he hisses, his voice cracking on the word ‘much’. “Go. _Go_. Please go.”

At this point Hinata couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Komaeda seems like he might have some sort of aneurysm if he tries to move again.

He decides to try a different response.

“Komaeda.” His voice is slow, measured. “Do you really want me to leave?”

Komaeda is staring somewhere over Hinata’s left shoulder. “Yes. _Yes_. Please. I don’t want to look at you any longer than I have to.” He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, in a way that Hinata’s certain isn’t due to his fever. “I can’t stand having you here with me. Go away.”

“Okay,” Hinata says, and he finally manages to catch Komaeda’s erratic gaze with his own. “I’ll go.”

Komaeda’s breathing slows, just slightly. “You’ll go?” he repeats, staring up at Hinata with his wide, grey eyes.

Hinata sinks down onto the bed beside him. “Yeah.” He lets his head roll back against the headboard and looks down at Komaeda, balled up beside him like forgotten paper that was thrown at a bin and missed. “I’ll go.”

Komaeda makes a noise. Hinata can’t tell if it’s a wheeze or a sob, and decides to mark it down as some combination of the two. He does it again, louder this time, when Hinata wriggles his arm, newly released from Komaeda’s grasp, out from where it’s awkwardly squashed between the two of them and wraps it around his shoulders, drawing him in closer to his body.

“It’s to keep you warm,” he tells Komaeda. “That’s important when you’re sick. I think.”

Komaeda doesn’t seem to register it. If he does, he certainly doesn’t care. All he does is burrow closer against Hinata, his face pressed into his chest, and mutter to himself, repeating, “Go away, go away, go away,” getting quieter each time until he drops off entirely, placated, small and cold but growing warmer as Hinata wraps his arm tighter around his body and squeezes.

“It’s okay,” Hinata says lamely, unsure of how to handle this new, cuddlier version of Komaeda he’s suddenly found himself dealing with. “I’ll stay away as long as you need me to,” he tells him, and feels Komaeda’s fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt, still shaking with fever but gripping hard nonetheless.

Hinata’s fingers, the feeling finally returning to them after Komaeda’s bony hand almost took his wrist off, idly find their way into Komaeda’s hair, stroking it gently despite its sweatiness. Hinata hadn’t realised how _tired_ he was until he sat down, he thinks, feeling the rapidly slowing swell of Komaeda’s raspy breaths lull him into a similar state of drowsiness. He hasn’t slept right since he woke up on the island, too restless at night to ever fully relax. It’s almost funny how the most comfortable he’s been in what feels like forever is with an attempted murderer lying on top of him. He would laugh if he didn’t think it would disturb Komaeda.

He looks down at where Komaeda’s head rests on his chest, feels his arms creep around to encircle Hinata’s waist, like he’s almost afraid he’ll be reprimanded for doing so. Hinata reaches his other arm, the one that isn’t occupied with playing with Komaeda’s hair, across his body, splays his hand across his back and pets, lets him know that it’s okay. He drops his head back and stares up at the ceiling, unfamiliar and wide, weight on his chest an anchor in the rough sea of the events of the past few days. The island is a place full of unfamiliar ceilings, unfamiliar people, even the life he lives suddenly unfamiliar to him even as he experiences it, although unfamiliar to _what_ , he doesn’t know, considering he can’t even fucking _remember_ what talent got him into this mess in the first place. Everything just feels so _heavy_ , so _big_ , far too big for a group of teenagers to be dealing with alone. It’s all too _much_. All Hinata wants is some rest, scarce and elusive though it seems to be, between death and fear and sudden, mysterious illnesses affecting a significant amount of the island’s population.

 _Although_ , he thinks, looking down at Komaeda again, _this might have been exactly what I needed._

Komaeda’s been both what’s caused him the most stress, with his erratic behaviour and  murderous tendencies, and brought him the most peace, in the form of calm smiles and a slow, calm heartbeat against his side, in the time he’s been in this place.

He really is remarkable.

Almost as if he’s aware he’s being thought of, Komaeda shifts, angling his neck upwards so he’s looking at Hinata with drowsy, half-lidded eyes. “I hate you, you know,” he murmurs, voice slurred by exhaustion. Hinata nods at him, well accustomed to the vitriol by now, although not nearly as hurt by it now that he’s beginning to recognise what’s meant by it.

“I know,” he reassures him gently. “I don’t like you much either.” He sweeps Komaeda’s hair away from his forehead to press a soft kiss to it before letting his fringe flop back down. “You’ll feel better if you get some sleep.”

Komaeda gives a slow nod. “‘Kay,” he manages to get out, head dropping back onto Hinata’s chest, breathing slowing further and further until he’s quiet and still, just the occasional rasp and quiet snore that shouldn’t be adorable but _is_ letting Hinata know he’s still alive. Hinata can’t help but smile down at him, this dumb, _fond_ little thing that he can’t stop from letting spread across his face, although he’d probably die instantly if anyone saw him doing it. He gently rests his chin on the top of Komaeda’s head, tucking him further into himself, completing the little cocoon he’s formed around him as he feels his own eyelids begin to droop. It’s been a long, exhausting sort of day. It’s been a long, exhausting sort of _life_ , really, and considering it might not last much longer, he figures he might as well let himself relax while he can.

 

 

He’s not sure how long he’s asleep before he’s nudged awake by Komaeda shifting in his arms. His first response is to shut his eyes tighter, pull him closer, not wanting to lose him just yet. But when Komaeda wriggles again he reluctantly cracks an eye open, peers down at where Komaeda’s looking up at him curiously.

“You didn’t go,” Komaeda says slowly, almost in disbelief at his own words, at the situation he’s suddenly found himself in.

Hinata’s mouth feels like it’s full of sand. “Yeah. I didn’t,” he rasps, tongue as sleepy as the rest of him, hoping the conversation will be over soon so he can go back to being warm and content with Komaeda curled up against his chest.

Komaeda blinks, as if he still can’t quite process everything that’s occurred. “Why?”

Hinata shrugs with Herculean effort. “Didn’t think you wanted me to,” he groans, shutting his eye again. “Can I go back to sleep yet?”

Almost imperceptibly, he feels Komaeda slump. “Of course. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep. I’m sure the floor is perfectly comfortable, not that I deserve that.”

Hinata is too exhausted to register what’s been said until Komaeda starts to extricate himself from his grip. “Hey,” he murmurs, putting a hand on Komaeda’s wrist, contact freezing him almost instantly. “Stop that. You need to sleep too, and you need a bed even more than I do.”

“But–”

“I don’t want you to leave, either,” Hinata manages to get out, and Komaeda makes that noise again, that strange half-sob from earlier. Hinata buries his face in his hair, earning a surprised squeak from Komaeda, and takes a deep breath, unable to relax fully until he feels Komaeda unwind, feels his arm curl back around his waist, feel _right_ again, in Hinata’s arms. Where he belongs.

“You know, I’m starting to think I don’t like you very much at all, Komaeda,” he murmurs into his hair.

All he gets in response is a quiet sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't know how to mention this but please know that while they were asleep the first time tsumiki came in, saw them asleep, and put a blanket around them  
> still on my komahina bullshit... the urge to write this really came out of nowhere and i probably wouldn't have finished/posted it if i hadn't realised that it's [raven wolfdawn](http://wolfdawn.tumblr.com)'s birthday (friend of the year right here lmao) and decided to release it as a present to them.  
> i had to think of a title on the fly and none of the songs i've been listening to lately really fit, so the title is a reference to the episode of evangelion that's titled "unfamiliar ceiling". i find it to be a really interesting and lovely set of words that's stuck with me since i first heard it, and what better place to reference it than a fic about a series which features voice actors from evangelion and a character that's basically murdery kaworu?  
> you can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/KYOUKAJlROU) and [tunglr](http://deerlimbs.tumblr.com) if you want to be sad about komahina in the year of our lord 2018, or if you just wanna say hi or yell at me.  
> thank for read  
> bye


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